


Trapped in the Closet

by ihavetodothis



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, South Park
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Funny, M/M, Not Serious, Ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-10
Updated: 2013-04-10
Packaged: 2017-12-08 02:06:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/755734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ihavetodothis/pseuds/ihavetodothis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock won't come out of the closet. (Based on Season 9, Episode 12 "Trapped in the Closet" of South Park)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trapped in the Closet

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



John sighs. After waiting about two hours for Sherlock to come out, the doctor grows impatient and knocks on the closet door.

“Sherlock? It’s John. Look, this is ridiculous. You need to come out of the closet,” he cajoles tiredly. There’s a pause.

“No,” Sherlock responds.

“You need to come out. You can’t solve cases when you’re in the closet, you know.”

“Nu-uh.”

“Come on out of the closet, Sherlock. This is the second time you’ve done this in a year.”

“Why should it matter? It’s perfectly comfortable in the closet and there are even pillows. I'm quite chuffed.”

“You need to come out sooner or later. No one will think any different of you, Sherlock. We’ll all respect you just as much...I think it’s time to come out, mate.”

“No.” Sherlock settles down in the corner of the closet, his arms crossed indignantly over his chest. John phones Lestrade.

“Yes, um, Lestrade...Sherlock’s, uh...well...he’s done that thing again -- you know, locked himself in the closet,” he explains. Lestrade rolls his eyes.

“I’ll be over in ten,” the detective concedes.

“Thanks.” They both hang up. John presses his lips together and exhales wearily. It’s impossible trying to reason with Sherlock, so he sits down on his favourite armchair, pulls out his laptop, and waits for Lestrade to arrive.

The television starts to flicker. The man furrows his eyebrows, confused, and takes the remote into his hand. He attempts to change the channel and the picture resolves itself. Moriarty, along with a strange man in overalls, appears on the screen with a cheeky smirk and begins to sing.

“Well, I was just sitting here...and Sherlock locked himself in the closet. I asked myself, ‘Why won’t Sherlock just come out of the closet?’ But, nobody has no answers...And so I pull out my British Army L9A1! Whoo! Tell me why Sherlock’s in the closet, or else I’m gonna shoot someone!” he sings, pulling a gun from his pocket and firing it into the air. This sends his companion, flailing, to the floor, and he continues to shoot. The picture fades out again, and there’s a knock on the door.

“Come on in. It’s unlocked,” John shouts. Lestrade opens the door and frowns. He walks over to the latter and smiles edgily.

“I’ll get him to come out,” he reassures John and heads over to the closet.

“Sherlock? You in there?” Lestrade asks. Sherlock grunts.

“We’re not angry with you, Sherlock. We just need you to come out of the closet.”

“But, I’m not...I’m not in...the closet,” Sherlock responds. Lestrade knits his eyebrows.

“Then, how am I talking to you?” Silence.

“Sherlock, you need to come out of the closet. I don’t know what’s put you in there, but this has gone too far.”

“But, you see, I’m not...I’m not in here,” Sherlock mutters. John gets up, slightly more aggravated, and strolls over to join the two other men.

“All right, Sherlock. You’ve gone and pissed me off again, so I’m coming in. I just want to talk. I promise I won’t try to drag you out; you’d probably perform some sort of asian-type manoeuvre on me, anyway.”

“Okay...but no tricks.”

“No tricks.” Then Sherlock opens the door, and John steps inside. It’s very crowded and the doctor is sure that there must be some body parts floating around somewhere, but the carpet is rather soft.

“Hmmm...it is pretty comfortable in here. I feel really safe...chuffed, honestly. I'm chuffed! Quite chuffed!” John mumbles to himself. Lestrade knocks on the door.

“Erm...John? You’re going to come out now, right?” he asks.

“I don’t really think so, Lestrade. I'm really chuffed in here,” John responds. The TV flickers once more and Moriarty appears again, this time wearing a pink shirt made of sequins and a large, blue sombrero. His friend is visibly shaking by his side. Moriarty begins another song.

“I was just sitting here...Sherlock locked himself in the closet. Then, John climbed in, yeah. Now John in the closet too. PLEASE, Sherlock and John, come out of the closet! Then, I calm myself down...and I pull out my British Army L9A1!” he sings, putting his gun to his companion’s temple.

“If Sherlock and John don’t come out of the closet, I’m gonna cap this bitch!” he finishes. The TV fades out once more. Lestrade shakes his head, confused, and a ping comes from the closet. It’s Sherlock’s phone. The consulting detective pulls it out of his pocket and checks the screen. It reads: “Coming to play. Faster than you can say, ‘I-O-U’! -JM”. He rolls his eyes and shuts his phone off. John nudges him.

“Who was that?” he enquires. Sherlock doesn’t respond. There is no knock on the door this time, but Moriarty strolls into the flat as if he owns the place. He’s in the tightest leather pants Lestrade has ever seen on a man, and that horrible pink top he was wearing on the telly.

“Ummm...Moriarty?” Lestrade addresses incredulously, backing up a few feet. Moriarty ignores him and strolls toward the closet. His friend follows him. Jim knocks on the door. When there is no response, he begins to sing again.

“I’ve been asked to come out here, get you both out of the closet...Man, this is some crazy shit. Why won’t you just come out the closet? And they said...” he starts, pointing to the door. Sherlock and John shuffle a bit before deciding to sing along.

“We’re not coming out the closet...so you can just go away...” they sing, their voices out-of-pitch and extremely breathy.

“But, everyone wants you out the closet...”

“That doesn’t matter, ‘cus we’re gonna stay...”

“Now I’m starting to get angry. So I pull out my British Army L9A1!” This sends Lestrade running out of the house, and Moriarty’s friend into the furthest corner of the flat.

“I’ll give you count to three to open this closet door...one! I’m gonna shoot you both. Two! I’m gonna cap some bitch! Three...!” The closet door opens. Moriarty slithers in, joining Sherlock and John. The three of them sit in awkward silence until Jim starts to sing again.

“Now I’m in the closet...now I’m in the closet, too...” he sings quietly, reaching over to grab Sherlock’s leg.

“We are never coming out of the closet. No, no, go away!” they all sing. Then Sherlock gets Moriarty into a headlock, takes his gun, and knees him between the legs.


End file.
